The Great and The Boneless
by Rav3nB1ack
Summary: (Inspired by the ongoing Vikings TV Show, Season 5.) Alfred is captured during the Battle of York. When he is brought before Ivar, at first neither of them recognise each other but when they do Ivar is put in a difficult position. Will he kill him, this innocent boy that showed him kindness years ago? Or will he let him live and face the wrath of his Viking brothers?
1. Chapter 1

The Great and The Boneless - Chapter 1

With his vision cloaked in darkness, Alfred had a moment alone with his guilt and regrets. Why was he so weak? So stupid to get himself captured by ungodly men, maybe they weren't even men but demons sent from God to punish those who have sinned against him? Was this his penance? To be tortured and killed by these heathens because he was a child of adultery?

He shivered as the cold lick against his skin, teasing him of the pain that was to come. The sound of the barbarians chanting and screaming throbbed against his ears, a warning and a welcome to his new world of torment. He prayed silently, hoping that God would reconsider but he heard nothing but harrowing silence.

They took of his blindfold and as it slipped from his eyes, a white light filled his vision. It came from the stained glass window at the back of the room, the Archangel, Gabriel, painted reverently on it. He stood solemnly with a scribe in his right hand and a pen in the other.

" _Save me!_ " Alfred whispered desperately but Gabriel refused to answer, instead he looked at him with sympathetic eyes. Alfred began to open his mouth but before he could utter a word, the stained glass came crashing down and his hope along with it. He looked at the perpetrator, a wide grin spread across his face and the blood of his brothers he killed in the Battle of York still fresh on his skin. He sat abjectly on his iron throne, the stone that he flung sat temptingly at his feet.

"Gabriel can't save you now, _Christian_!" Ivar snarled and his demonic savages jeered.

Alfred would have spat at him if not for his unexplainable knowledge of Christian angelology and his resemblance to someone he knew years ago. His azure eyes reminded him of a boy he met when he was younger and a comical chess game that he undoubtedly won. If he looked deeper into those blue eyes he could see that young boy but now all he saw - was the Devil.

Ivar could feel it too, a mysterious connection between them. Had he met him before? He tilted his head and surveyed his features: his lush brown locks and slightly chubby cheeks brought no recollect. But his eyes held an innocence he inexplicably felt the need to protect as if the desire to do so was bestowed upon him from another.

Simultaneously, their eyes widen as they came to the realisation of who they were standing in front of.

"Ivar?" Alfred asked buoyantly.

Ivar cocked his head, surprised. "Alfred?"

The hall was subdued with silence at these two acquaintances untimely reunion. Ivar could feel his men stare at him with disgust, he could hear them questioning their choice in choosing him as the leader of the Great Army. He couldn't have them doubting his loyalties, especially with Ubbe gone and Hvitserk determined to prove himself as a son of Ragnar. He had to make a decision.

"Find out what he knows," he ordered. "Use _any_ means necessary."

Ivar could hear Alfred calling his name, begging him to take back his command but he refused to listen and drowned him out under the sea of chaotic excitement as his ravenous men dragged him outside. Part of him hoped that he'd survive to torture, the other hoped he'd die so that he wouldn't have to face him again. But whatever happened next, Ivar knew it would change him forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Great and The Boneless - Chapter 2**

Ivar limped towards Alfred's cell, with the help of his crutches to help him, he ventured through the halls of the dungeon, radiated by the torch's harrowing light. The echoing silence made him nervous, contrasting with the tormentous screams that once filled its void. Pain and suffering reeked here, a comforting scent to Ivar's nostrils but today, it filled him with a nauseating distress. _Was he dead?_ The perturbed thought antagonised his mind till he got to the cell door.

His hand pressed against the metal frame as he peeked through the small window above the door, but the sight of cobwebs, a blood-stained stone floor and rotten chunks of food did nothing to ease his anxiety. Yet still he was hopeful. The sound of keys jangled against his ear as he looked for the right one to open the cell door. Once he found them, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the worse as he opened it - but instead he saw something far more unpleasant.

Alfred was chained to the corner of the wall, vicious cuts and purple bruises branded over his skin, red worms oozing out of them like crimson snakes. They were relentless, Ivar thought, then again, they were Vikings, provoking pain and fear was in their blood.

Ivar shifted his stance and straightened his back when he noticed Alfred lift his head towards the door. He squinted through his plumped eyes as Ivar put on his classical cocky smile and immediately, Alfred knew who it was.

"Get out," Alfred said, his voice low and weak.

Ivar entered the cell, disregarding Alfred's fibble remark. "You look well, Alfred. I think red suits suits you perfectly."

"I said get out!" Alfred bellowed.

Ivar clicked his tongue tauntingly. "Someone's angry." He pressed the end of his crutches against his chin and lifted it up, forcing Alfred to face his oppressor. "You should watch how you speak to me, _Alfred_. We're not kids anymore, I am your king now."

Alfred spat at him and Ivar staggered back, wiping away his salvia off his cheek. "I see no king before me, only a child."

Ivar curled his lips in detest at his insult.

"Are you such a coward that you have to order your men to torture me and leave me here to die, or are you too weak to kill me yourself?"

Spitefully, Ivar striked Alfred's cheek with the end of his crutches but Alfred didn't howl or griminance in pain, instead he let out a goading laugh.

"You still are weak," Alfred derided. " _Ivar the Boneless._ "

Just as Ivar was about to strike him again, a voice spoke from behind.

"What are you doing, Ivar?"

Ivar turned on his heel to see Hvitserk standing behind him, his eyes narrowed in curiosity and confusion.

"Bring him to the main hall," Ivar ordered as he limped out of the cell. "It's time to put this filthy Christian to use."


End file.
